Namedays
by MarigoldRose24
Summary: An exploration of Jon's childhood, centred around his Namedays. Rated T just to be safe
1. Chapter 1

**After many years of reading fanfic I have finally decided to share something of my own.** ** So please be kind. **

**Part One **

Jon's first nameday started in the crypts of Winterfell, Ned retrieved him from the nursery and the patient arms of his wet nurse in the early morning hours before most of the household had woken. If the babe was bothered by the chill air and darkness of the ancient space or the flickering shadows across solemn, foreboding statues of long dead Starks he gave no sign of it. He babbled happily, his fingers tangling in the long strands of Ned's hair. Ned shifted the boy higher up on his hip as he approached the only stone effigy of a woman in the crypts. He drew in a ragged breath as he met her face, it didn't do her justice, didn't capture her beauty, her fierceness, her damn stubborn willful, reckless spirit. Wolf blood, his father had called it, Brandon had it too, now they were both gone and Ned...Ned had inherited all that they had left behind; Winterfell, the North, a wife who should have been his brothers and a son who should have worn a crown. The boy would never know, his life would be full of hardships, labeled a Bastard and ostracized for a sin that had never even been committed, it wasn't what Lyanna would have wanted he knew but in the end it was the only way he could think to protect him from Roberts wrath. He would afford him a noble education, have him trained at arms along side Robb but what would become of the boy?

'Dada' Ned turned at the sound, Both Robb and Jon could speak a few words each but you were more likely to hear it from Robb, who was by far the more boisterous of the two. Jon regarded him with big dark eyes, they had recently started to charge from baby blue to the stormy grey of his mother and Ned was beyond grateful for it, the rumours he had been careful to nurture regarding he and Ashara would how accounted for violet had they gone that way, but grey was so much easier to overlook in the North.

'what is it my boy, hum?' but the boy simply babbled on, happy it seemed to be with Ned, he didn't get to spend as much time with either boy as he would have liked, the last year that been a hell of an entirely different sort after the years of war. Ned had never been expected to rule, and the north was still in disarray, there was so much to do and so much to learn. And sadly Cat's anger toward Ned's alleged betrayal had further limited the attention he could give Jon, he had yet to find a balance between his fiery southern wife and his orphaned nephew. Ned sighed and turned his attention back to his sister's statue.

'It's been a year today. ' he whispered. 'I wanted to bring him to see you, I won't be able to as he gets older, it would raise too many questions, but just this once I wanted to bring him here to be near you. He's getting big, and his healthy, strong. He...he looks like you, everyone says it's me but he's too pretty to take after me.' he gave her a self deprecating smile. 'You would have been a wonderful mother Lya, I fear...I fear he won't know much love in his life and I am so so sorry for that, I'm sorry I won't be able to give him what you and his father would have but I will keep my promise to you, I will keep him safe.' he used his free hand to pick up one of the many candles on the ledges built into the walls and lit it from another, he placed the candle in Lyanna's outstretched hand and then turned away, taking her boy back out into the light.

As Robb's fourth nameday approached the castle prepared for a feast in celebration, up until now namedays had been quiet family affairs, but not this year, the neighbouring bannerman had been invited, a trunk of gifts from Robb's grandfather in the riverlands had arrived the week before along with a group of mummers. Robb was so excited he had hardly slept for a sensnight, much to Lady Starks frustration. Jon was excited too, at first it didn't seem like he would be allowed to attend at all but Robb had been very upset at the notion that his brother wouldn't be there and Lady Stark had relented for the sake of Robb's happiness.

Although just shy of 4 namedays himself Jon was already aware of some of the differences between him and Robb, he knew that Lady Catelyn was not his mother, and that he didn't have the same last name as the rest of his family, but he was only starting to really understand what any of that meant. People were always nice to his brother, but the same wasn't true for him, some people were, the cook, Gage was, and Bessie, who made the bread in the mornings. Old Tom the barber was too, and Ser Rodrik who had recently started training both boys with little wooden swords. But lady Catelyn's handmaids were not, and Marge the seamstress wasn't either, some of the guards too though father had had words with one a few weeks back after he had yelled at Jon for bumping into him.

The day before the feast father had taken Jon aside and explained that these celebrations were because Robb was the heir and Ned and Cat's trueborn son and that when Jon's Nameday arrived in a moons turn the same would not happen, though Ned promised they'd do something that day, just the two of them. Jon had done his best to not show any emotion at this news, something he had recently started to realize was safer for him, a part of him had certainly expected it anyway, It was lady Stark who had planned the feast, maybe you needed a mother to have a Nameday feast.

He had run off as soon as he could, the weight of the conversation making him feel very uncomfortable. A lot of things made Jon feel uncomfortable, the way Lady Stark looked at him for one, sometimes it was the way some people spoke to him, worse, sometimes it was the way father looked at him too. It wasn't the same way Lady Stark did, she looked at him like he was something yucky she'd gotten on her shoe, but every once in a while father would look at him and he just looked sad, the way you might look at your favourite toy after your brother broke it. Father had fixed the little toy warrior after Robb had snapped the arm off by accident, Jon wished he could fix whatever it was about himself that made father sad.

Jon did enjoy the feast, the cooks had made all of Robb's favourites and the mummers from the Riverlands were like nothing the boys had seen before: jugglers and dancers and musicians who played exotic songs they said were popular across the Narrow Seas. Local crafters presented Robb with toys and more practical things that Jon paid little attention to, the chest from Lord Tully also contained toys, wooden horses and knights and ships, Robb looked to his brother with an expression of glee 'I can't wait for tomorrow, we'll play with all the new toys.' Jon smiled happily at his brother, he would never have near as many toys as Robb, but Robb loved to play with him and so in a way it was all for him as well. There was also bolts of linen and bundles of soft leather for Lady Stark to have new clothes made for Robb, and a new practice sword which was finer than the ones they were using now, it was weighted and slightly too big for Robb but Father said they'd put it away until he was bigger, along with the bow that had been sent as well.

Something cold and sad settled over Jon, Robb would share his toys, mostly because it was more fun to play with someone than to play alone, but the sword and the bow and everything else was all for Robb. Everyone was gathered here for Robb. Jon didn't have a grandfather in the Riverlands, or anywhere else for that matter, no one sent him anything. And no one would ever gather to celebrate anything about Jon. He tried to shake the feeling off, he dreaded the idea that it might show on his face, if Lady Catelyn saw it would come to no good. He turned his attention to the blueberry cream tarts the servants had brought to the table, they were Robbs favourites and his brother was already bitting into a second. Jon ate his slowly, they weren't his favourites, he liked apple tarts but they were still good, he knew he'd only be allowed one so he tried to saviour the taste.

Shortly after they were sent off to bed while the feast continued for the grown ups, Robb thought that to be unfair but father had insisted, it wasn't until Jon was sure that Robb was asleep across the room from him that he allowed himself to cry, hot tears leaking out of the corners of his eyes to dampen his hair, his shoulders shook and he held a hand to his mouth to stop any sound from escaping. He wished he knew what it was he'd done wrong, what it was about him that made Lady Catelyn hate him, and made father sad and made it so that he would have no nameday feast.

A moon turn later on Jon's fourth nameday, his father took him for a walk in the godswood after they had broken their fast. It was a cool sunny day and Lord Stark kept pace with Jon, allowing him to stop and explore as all four year olds are apt to do and he listened intently as Jon talked about his lessons with Ser Rodrik, Jon and Robb would soon start lessons with Maester Luwin but those lessons didn't sound like they would be near as interesting as swordplay. When they eventually made it to the hearttree in the centre of the woods father sat by the steaming pond and gestured for Jon to do the same.

When Jon had settled next to him Ned took a small package out from his cloak and handed it to Jon, Jon opened it to reveal a wooden toy ship as fine as the one Robb had gotten from his grandfather, it had been the toy Jon had liked the most from Robb's nameday. Jon smiled, really smiled, something that was becoming rarer the older he got. 'Thank you father, it's wonderful'

'There are a few more presents in my solar, you can get them when we go back.' father brought a hand up and messed up Jon's curls, an affectionate gesture that only happened when Lady Stark wasn't around. Jon bite his lip, he wanted to ask his father something, something that he instinctively knew may get him into trouble but the thought had been there, nagging at him since the feast, pieces of a puzzle starting to fit together in his 4 year old mind. 'Is something wrong son?'

Jon looked up at him with sad dark eyes, 'why don't I have a mother?' he asked, it came out softer than he wanted it to, when Jon thought about it it hurt in a way he couldn't yet put into words, he felt like a part of him was missing, he watched Lady Stark with Robb and baby Sansa and he knew part of what was missing, she seemed so warm, in ways that father wasn't. She kissed bruised knees and wiped away tears and sang sweet songs when Sansa cried. Jon didn't have that, when he was younger he knew he'd had a wet nurse and she had done some of those things but she was long gone now and when Jon fell no one made him feel better about it and he wiped away his own tears. But it wasn't just that, there was something else that was missing too, something Jon couldn't point to yet.

Father tensed, the hand that had been messing up Jon's hair a moment ago fell to his lap and he stared at the wisps of steam rising over the water. 'Jon.' he started, his voice strained in a way Jon had rarely heard before. 'That's a conversation for when you are much older.'

Jon felt that cold feeling again, the same one he felt at Robb's feast, but this time it was followed by something hot and painful, like standing to close to the hearth but from the inside, he took a deep breath, he didn't want to lose his temper and ruin this day. ' But everyone has one don't they?' he asked.

Father frowned 'Of course, you need both and mother and a father to make a child.' he seemed to be a loss as to what to say. 'When you are older I will explain to you why things are the way they are, but for now I need you to put it out of your head, alright?'

Jon stared at him for a moment, it wasn't the answer he had wanted, it wasn't any kind of answer at all, but Jon could tell that his father was done talking about it so he nodded in agreement.

Father sighed and stood 'Lets make our way back, shall we?' Jon nodded again and walked beside his father, and a little further back and with much less enthusiasm than before, he kept his head down until the tears were gone from his eyes. He felt as though he had ruined the day by asking and maybe Father was mad at him and that's why they had to go back now. He thought about that until it felt like something inside was going to burst and finally he asked;

'Are you mad at me?'

Father stopped and turned back to him crouching down so he was eye level with him, 'No, no sweet boy, I'm not mad. It's only natural that you would want to know but know is not the time.' he held out his hand for Jon's and together they started back again 'when we get back you can have the rest of your gifts and then we will have our midday meal with Robb and then the two of you may go spend the rest of the day playing, does that sound good?'

Jon nodded, feeling both relief and a strange feeling of loss. The rest of the day was pleasant enough, there were several more toys, one sent down from Uncle Benjen at Castle Black (so he did have someone to send him gifts), and a new pair of boots to replace his which were now too small. Old Nan had made kidney pies for lunch and there were even apple tarts, Jon ate two, afterward Robb and Jon ran off to play until it was time to clean up for the evening meal, after which he had yet another apple tart. It had been a good day and Jon found that he was happy, he would never have a nameday feast or a mountain of presents but for right now that was alright, he had his father and his brother and maybe when Sansa was old enough to not be boring he'd have her too and for right now at least he could ignore the dark cloud that gathered at the edge of his mind, full of questions and a longing for something he had never had.

Jon's sixth nameday was a disaster. It really shouldn't have come as a surprise to him, he hadn't expected anything at all of course, Father had been away now for almost 4 moons, fighting the ironborn and there was no word on his return.

Things in Winterfell had been steadly getting worse for Jon since father had been gone and he was trying his hardest to slip by unseen. He had been banned from eating with the family as soon as Lord Stark had left, instead Jon took his meals in the kitchens with the servants, he had not been allowed to attend Robbs Nameday feast, which had been a smaller affair than usual as most of the bannerman were also at war. And it now seemed as though he had twice as many chores as Robb and these kept him so busy that he hardly had time to play with his brother at all, or to see little Arya which, though he wasn't about to admit it, may have been worse.

Arya was only 1 and a girl but from the moment Jon had first laid eyes on her he had been hopelessly in love, not in the gross way, like the Stable boy Lonny was with the cooks daughter (Robb and Jon had spied them kissing in the stables once when they were supposed to be going to their lessons with the maester), but in a warm and fuzzy sort of way, maybe it had something to do with the fact that she looked like him and Father, Robb and Sansa were all Lady Stark, red hair and blue eyes but Arya was all dark like him and it made him feel less out of place, like she belonged to him. And she seemed to like him, from the time she was very little she would smile for him when no one else could get her to, and the first time she had crawled she had crawled to him, the first step she had taken had been to him and her first word was Jon. Lady Stark would never forgive him for that he didn't think, but that was alright, Lady Stark hadn't forgiven him for being born yet so what was one more thing?

The day had started off much the same way as any other, He had broken his fast in the kitchens on bacon and warm bread and then he had gone out to the tilt yard to practice with Robb, Robb had beamed at him and wished him Happy Nameday, for he'd still been sleeping when Jon had left the room, then his expression had dropped and he'd told Jon he was sorry he didn't have anything for him, he didn't have gold of his own yet and his mother wouldn't hear of getting him anything. Jon had told him it was alright, honestly he had been touched that Robb had thought of it at all.

The hours that Jon spent in the tilt yard were some of his happiest, he had taken to swordplay as soon as Lord Stark had put a practice sword in his hand, he was GOOD at this, better than Robb if he was being honest, but that was a dangerous thought to have, Jon wasn't suppose to be better than Robb at anything, he'd learned that two years before when they had first started learning their letters and numbers, it had come to Jon more easily than it had to Robb and Lady Stark had been extremely annoyed, her and Father had had one of their loudest arguments ever and for a while it had seemed as though Jon wouldn't be allowed to continue his lessons. At the time he hadn't understood what he'd done wrong, Maester Luwin hadn't seemed to be upset with him, quite the opposite in fact, and Jon would be lying if he said he didn't like the praise. But after the argument Lady Catelyn had taken to dropping in on their lessons regularly, she said that she was checking on Robb's progress but Jon knew by the cold look she gave him that there was more to it than that. He had, over time, learned to let Robb take the lead, sometimes he just didn't speak up when he knew the answer, sometimes he just let his mind wander. Maester Luwin's praise became less and less and so did Lady Catelyn's visits. One of those things calmed him, the other just made him sad.

Fighting though was different, it was one thing to let Robb answer questions about the 50 different Brandon Starks, it was an entirely different thing to let Robb smack him in the head with a wooden sword. When he fought, he didn't think about how displeased Lady Stark would be, or how he should let his older brother win, he didn't think about much of anything, he just fought. Robb was taller and stronger than him, but Jon was quicker and better on his feet, he also found it easy to figure out what his opponent's next move was going to be and that let him land more blows. Jon's favourite thing was sparing, his least favourite was when Lady Stark decided to watch, so of course today would be one of those days.

Ser Rodrik had spent a good deal of the morning instructing them on a new set of foot work, Robb complained that it was too much like dancing and Ser Rodrik had cuffed him round the head, none too hard but enough for Robb to shut up. Jon had smirked at him as he rubbed the back of his head, sometimes there were benefits to letting Robb do all the talking. When they finally started practicing against each other, slowly at first, there had been a lot of laughing and stumbling, Ser Rodrik didn't seem to mind though, learning to fight wasn't an entirely serious thing after all, at least not at their age. Eventually though they had sped up their movements, growing more confident in the steps and the Master at Arms had given them the go ahead to start sparing for real.

Robb had taken the offensive as he was ought to do and Jon held back watching his brother for the tell tale signs of how he would attack, the minute he started to move Jon knew what he was going to do, he attempted to use the fancy new steps he'd been taught to slip out of Robb's reach but he stumbled at the last second and almost landed on his knees but he was able to steady himself and raise his word to catch the blow from Robb's. Jon pushed back against the sword forcing Robb to withdraw, they circled each other, both looking for an opening. They were both young still and not as confident as the older boys who trained in the afternoon, their sessons rang out with the sounds of steel on steel but Robb and Jon weren't at an age yet where their wooden swords connected much. Eventually Jon saw his opening, Robb had raised his sword again but Jon slipped under his arms and came up behind, he hit Robb in the back of the knees and he fell to the ground, Jon had his sword point at Robb's throat in a heartbeat.

'Yield?' He asked

'Yield.' Robb agreed with a grin, no hurt feelings, Robb won his fair share of the time and they had been taught by their father and Ser Rodrik to be gracious with both winnings and loses, both were part of the learning process, both equally valuable in the tilt yard. Jon offered his brother a hand up as Ser Rodrik clapped him on the shoulder.

'Good work Jon, Robb you can't rely on your strength alone, it doesn't do you much good while your brother DANCES around you'

Robb laughed 'Aye, Ser. I 'ppose footwork might be important'

Ser Rodrik laughed and called for them to take up positions again, but as Jon turned he caught sight of Lady Catelyn at the walkway above the tilt yard, watching him with a scowl and a hard cold look in her icy blue eyes, she caught his eyes briefly before she stormed off back into the castle. A heavy weight dropped in Jon's stomach, he knew that look all too well, she'd find away to make him pay for beating Robb. Jon sighed and took up his position against Robb, the mornings lessons continued but the joy was gone. Jon still managed to win two more rounds and Robb two as well, but he knew he could have done better, his footwork was sloppy and he missed a number of openings.

When Ser Rodrik dismissed them for the day Robb ran off to the private dinning hall the Starks used when they weren't having feasts, to share the midday meal with his mother and their sisters. Jon took the long way to the kitchens, wandering through several of the smaller courtyards with their reflecting pools and direwolf statues before he finally found himself sitting at one of the tables by the giant kitchen hearths. To his surprise Old Nan had made kidney pies for him, usually the midday meal consisted of cheeses, breads and cured meats, fruits if it was close enough to harvest season. But Old Nan always made kidney pies on Jon's Nameday, he was touched that she had remembered though he couldn't think of a reason why she wouldn't. Old Nan never treated him any differently than she treated Robb or Sansa. He had asked her why not that long ago and she had scuffed and asked him if he thought he was the first Stark child named Snow. He'd had no answer for that. 'A child's a child no matter if it was born to a golden cradle with a crown on it's head or to small folk with no name a'tall.' she had told him. ' I've looked after generations of Stark babes, and I've loved them all, you're no different my boy' Jon had loved her all the more for that.

He ate his pie in silence as he watched the bustle of the kitchen as cooks and scullery maids wove around each other in their effort to begin the evening meal, Jon spent a lot of time in the kitchens with Lord Stark away at war and he had learnt quite a bit about the men and women who worked there, he knew names and family, who was new and who'd grown up within the walls of winterfell or the nearby wintertown. Gage, the head cook had 3 daughters, flowered but not yet wed, who caused him no end of stress (and he didn't even know about Lonny the stable boy), Bessie was worried about her husbands gout, Norah, the pretty little blonde who peeled the potatoes really wanted to be a seamstress but there was an opening in the kitchens and she needed the silver to help fed her brothers and sisters, Jon wasn't sure how many of them there were but it seemed like a lot, every time she spoke to him she seemed to name another one.

When he'd finished his pie, Bessie laid an apple tart in front of him with a smile on her round ruddy face. 'Happy Nameday love.' She said with a pat on the shoulder. Jon grinned back, maybe the day wasn't so bad after all.

'What is this?' Jon flinched, Lady Catelyn stood not ten feet away, her lips thinned in a disapproving frown. 'Are we wasting apples and pastry on the midday meal?'

'Lord Stark always has us make 'em for Jon's Nameday Milady' Bessie explained, though Jon got the feeling she already knew it was a lost cause, Jon certainly did.

'Lord Stark is not here and no one informed me of this.' The Lady replied, her voice cold and hard.

'Pardon Milady, we did not think - '

'No, you certainly did not, wasting such resources for a bastard's Nameday. Take it back, you will serve them at the evening meal, to the family.' She glared at Jon as though it had been his idea, Jon hoped she was done, He could feel the heat rising in his cheeks, he wanted to cry, he didn't want her to see 'And you, when you are done with your afternoon lessons you will help the stable boys clean out the stables, then you will assist the servants bringing round the firewood for the night. Is that clear?'

'Yes My Lady.' Jon kept his head down as he often did in her presence. It was best not to look at her, not that he wanted to, not when she looked at him the way she did. When Jon was very small he used to wonder why she hated him so, even after he had understood that she wasn't his mother he had failed to understand why that would make her hate him. But he was six now and he did understand that what angered Lady Stark was in the making of him, though he wasn't entirely clear what that entailed he knew that men were only supposed to help make babies with their wives and his father had done whatever it was with another woman, that made Jon a bastard and that was why Lady Catelyn hated him. It still seemed unfair but then a lot of things seemed unfair. Jon heard the swish for skirts and the clipped steps that told him Lady Stark had left the kitchen.

He turned to Bessie, tears still held at bay, 'I'm sorry you got in trouble, it was kind of you and it made me happy.' he whispered.

Bessie sighed, she bent down so she was eye level with him, her hands on his shoulders. 'I'm sorry, dear boy, I didn't mean to get YOU into trouble. Tell you what, I'll save one of the tarts for you, for later, when no one's around to see. Hum?'

Jon shook his head in regret, 'I don't want you to get in more trouble because of me. Thank you though, for thinking of me.'

Bessie sighed, 'when your Lord Father comes home we shall make more for his welcome home feast, he would allow you one for a certain.'

Jon gave her what he hoped was a grateful smile before he nodded and ran off, a cold heavy feeling forming in his stomach like someone had dropped a giant snowball in there and he didn't know quite why.

By the time he got to the library were he and Robb were taking lessons he felt panicked like he did when he woke from a bad dream. He tried to ignore it, he hadn't had a bad dream, it was the middle of the day, the was nothing to be afraid of, except perhaps for Lady Stark but she had done her worst and would not bother him anymore this day.

Maester Luwin took up his lesson where he had left off the day before, with the history of House Stark, Jon was glad he hadn't started with writing or numbers, he didn't think he could concentrate enough for that. Jon did try to pay attention, but the feeling of panic hadn't gone away and it was hard to ignore, he often felt bad after he had a run in with Lady Stark but he didn't usually feel this bad, no it was something else, something that nagged from the corner of his mind. What had Bessie said? She'd make apple tarts when father came home? That was it, something clicked into place. The room seemed too hot all of a sudden and yet the cold inside him seemed to spread.

'Jon?' Robb looked at him curiously and Maester Luwin stopped talking to stare at him as well. Jon jumped up from his chair and ran, he made it all the way to the little used courtyard outside the tower that held the library before he fell to his knees and emptied his stomach on the ground. By the time he was done Maester Luwin was standing behind him, he helped him back to his feet and guided him to sit on the steps.

'feeling ill?' He asked.

Jon shook his head, he wasn't ill, he was scared, more so than he had ever been. The Maester laid a hand on his forehead anyway.

'No fever.' He concluded. 'Did you eat something that didn't agree with you?' Again Jon shook his head no. 'Oh, then perhaps you would like to tell me what's wrong.' Jon stared at his boots. 'Sometimes it helps to talk.' Luwin nudged.

'What if father doesn't come home? What if he dies in the war?' The words spilled out in a quick rush.

'Ah.' The Maester seemed to almost relax at the question, 'It is a very normal thing to be worried about your Lord Father. War is a terrifying thing. And it is out of our hands, sometimes all we can do is pray, I imagine that you have prayed for Lord Stark's safe return?' Maester Luwin and Jon did not hold with the same gods, being from the south the Maester, like Lady Stark worshiped the Seven, Jon's siblings have been taught both the old ways and the new but Jon had only his fathers gods, the old gods.

He nodded at the Maester's question. 'I have prayed, But...' Again he hesitated. 'But what will happen to me if Father doesn't return? Lady Stark doesn't want me here, if father di-dies where will I go?'

The Maester took a moment to respond, seemingly thinking over the answer, Jon was glad he didn't brush off his concerns. 'Well, I suppose you would be fostered out to one of the other noble houses, The karstarks or the Umbers mayhaps. Or... there is always the possibility that your Uncle Benjen may send for you, it is not unheard of for children of a young age to go to the wall. The youngest Lord Commander was only 10 when he was elected and he was a Stark as well.'

Jon tried to imagine going to the watch, he loved his Uncle Benjen, but he didn't think it would be a very nice place to be a child. He didn't imagine there would be much time to play and it was always cold here. He also didn't think being sent to one of the other houses would be very nice either, he'd be all alone and he wouldn't know anyone. But something darker nagged at him and he found himself saying it before he could think better of it. 'But what if she makes me go right away, what if she just makes me leave? I know she hates me, I don't think she'd care if I died in the wolfswood.'

Maester Luwin sighed and gripped jons shoulders to calm him 'Jon, you are your fathers son, Lady Stark may not like that fact but it is a truth, she would not send you out into the world with no way to survive, such a thing would not be looked favourable upon by the other houses, nor by your fathers man who still reside here. Nor do I think the Lady is so cruel as that. If your Lord Father does not return from war, and by the Seven I pray he does, a path will be laid out for you. It is true that you will probably not be permitted to stay in Winterfell while Robb is not of age to be Lord, though I am sure he would invite you to return as soon as he is able. But enough of this somber talk, you have been quite distressed and I am told that you have many chores to attend to after our lessons. I want you to take the rest of the afternoon and go rest.'

Jon realized that the conversation was over, he nodded though he still felt like arguing, but Maester Luwin had come to Winterfell with Lady Stark from Riverrun, and like many people in Jon's world seemed to see her as fair and kind no matter how she treated him, proof perhaps that as a bastard Jon really didn't matter.

Fear still gripped him as he walked back to the room he shared with Robb in the Nursery area of the family quarters. He opened the chest that stood at the foot of his bed and rummaged around until he found what he was looking for, the travel bag his father had given him last year when he'd taken him and Robb camping. He also pulled out a warm pair of trousers and a shirt and doublet, ones he rarely ever wore, they had been Robbs until recently and were in truth still a little too big for him, though they were only a moon's turn apart in age Robb had always been bigger, a fact that annoyed Jon to no end. He shoved the clothes in the bag, the bedroll he'd been given for the same trip was still in there. Could he get food from the kitchen? No that was no good, food would spoil, he could hunt, maybe. He hadn't spent much time using a bow and he wasn't very good at it, he could set trips if he had to, his father and Jory had shown them how and he thought he still remembered, he'd need a knife though, and twine. He could get twine that was easy enough, but the knife? He wasn't old enough to carry one yet and if he tried to steal one from the armoury he'd end up in more trouble than he'd ever been in before. But the kitchens had knives.

Jon ran down to the kitchens by way of some of the lesser used corridors and carefully slipped passed the servants who were now well into the rush of the preparing the evening meal, he grabbed a knife from one of the tables when no one was looking and slipped back out. Sometimes being small was a blessing, even if it meant you got all your brothers hand-me-downs. He made it back to his room and put the knife in the bag carefully. The next part would be the hardest, as he wasn't really allowed to leave the castle grounds and doing so with a travelling bag was bound to raise suspicions. Try as he may he just couldn't figure out how to get the bag to the woods, then it dawned on him, the hunters gate in the godswood, it wasn't used anymore and most people didn't even know it existed but father had pointed it out to him as they were taking their usual walk together through the sacred space on Jon's last Nameday. Jon had asked why no one guarded it and his father had told him that it was a secret only the Starks knew and that it was so well hidden on the other side that no one could find it if they didn't know where to look.

Jon grabbed the bag and took off at once, aware that the afternoon lessons would soon be over and if he wasn't back in time to head to the stables Lady Stark would surely find out. He kept to the edges of the main courtyard and broke into a run once he neared the entrance to the crypts, Jon hated the Crypts, but there was no other way to the godswood. Once he entered the grove he didn't slow down but made toward the back as fast as he could go. The hunters gate, was in fact little more than an old door well hidden in the outer wall of the castle which ringed the godswood, It was made of the same ancient stone and buried behind a gnarled old tree and several overgrown bushes. Despite it's size and age, when Jon pushed against it it gave way without complaint, leading out into the edges of the wolfswood, far from the main gates of Winterfell. Jon's heart pounded maddeningly against his chest, he had never snuck out of the castle before, he had never been one for rule breaking, and though he and Robb loved to talk about going camping and hunting by themselves, in truth the wolfswood scared him. The trees here were different than those in the godswood, wilder somehow and closer together, giving the light less chance to get through. Jon didn't go very far though, he picked a tree that stood out from the others, a big thick elm whose roots formed a space big enough to hide a bag in. He stuffed the bag in as far as he could, and tried to memorize the area around the tree, could he find it again if he had to? He wasn't sure, he hoped so. If Father died and Lady Stark made him leave he would have to come this way and find the bag, it wasn't much but it was something, a little bit of peace in his 6 year old mind. Hurriedly he turned and made his way back, pulling the secret door closed behind him, something that proved somewhat harder than opening it. He run back toward the entrance to the godswood as quickly as he could and with a bit of luck he emerged just in time to see Robb making his way across the courtyard from their lesson. He was just in time to get to work.

Lonny, the same stable boy he'd seen kissing the cooks daughter, handed him a rake when he made it to the stables. He had a sympathetic look in his eyes and a half smile on his lips. 'They ain't so bad right now, what with most of the horses gone t'war. Good thing too, Hodor's been under the weather n' it's him does most of the cleanin' Jon nodded and got to work, mucking out the stalls, he wasn't as fast as the other boys all of whom where much older than him but he tried his best, it was hard work for him even with most of the stalls empty. Soon his arms were burning and his back hurt and he was sure he smelled like horse shit. The stable boys were several stalls away laughing and joking with each other to pass the time while they worked, Jon wasn't one of them, even if he had been he assumed he was too young to have been in on their conversation, Jon was used to being on the outside, but that didn't make it easier. With his family he was the bastard, not quite as good as the rest of them, but he wasn't one of the servants either and they all knew it, sometimes it felt like everyone in Winterfell kept him at a distance. He wondered if he would ever belong somewhere.

By the time the stables were cleaned the sun was almost gone. The evening meal would be starting soon in the great hall, Jon didn't know if Lady Stark, Robb and the girls would be eating at the high table tonight or if they were taking their meal in the smaller dinning hall or in Lady Stark's rooms as they sometimes did, but either way, he didn't feel like venturing in to find out. He didn't feel like eating around people at all, so he grabbed a plate of food from the kitchens and returned to the courtyard, sitting down by one of the tower walls with his dinner on his lap. With the sun down the air had a bitter chill to it but the braziers in the yard were all lit and they fended off the worst of the cold, still by the time he was done his meal his fingers and toes were numb and his ears burned.

He returned his plate to the kitchens and ran off to the stores were the split logs were kept. When he got there Gord, the steward who oversaw the fires glared at him as he always did when Jon was sent to help. Jon was, as far was Gord was concerned far too small to be of any actual help, it would take him two trips to everyone else's one and therefore slow down the entire process. Jon lowered his eyes and stared at his boots until Gord sighed and told him were to take his first load. Like the stables, it was difficult work for a six year old, the day had been long enough already and he knew it would be well passed his usual bedtime before he was finished. He was exhausted and his arms and legs stung from the weight of the logs and the endless steps, his hair was damp with sweat and the faint odor of horses. It felt like it took forever but finally he was told it was done and he was free. He made his way slowly back to the family quarters and quietly opened the door to his room, as he had thought, Robb was sound asleep, moonlight illuminating just enough of the room for him to make out his brothers Tully red hair. He thought about washing up with the water basin in the corner but he was too tired to care. He stripped off his dirty clothes and threw on his sleep shirt, crawling under the furs of his bed, he was asleep as soon as he closed his eyes.

In his dreams that night he wandered an empty Winterfell, he called for his father, for Robb, for Maester Luwin, Ser Rodrik, for Hodor or Lonny but there was no one, the Forge was empty and there were bones in the stable. He walked until he found himself in front of the Crypts, stone Direwolves watched him from the shadows. Down, he had to go down, but he didn't belong down there for he was not a Stark...


	2. Chapter 2

Authors Note: I wanted to thank everyone who reviewed, followed or favourited my story. I'm touched that you like it. I had written a long reply to one response but I decided to ignore it and move on. This is after all a work of fiction based on a work of fiction, it shouldn't be taken too seriously.

I want to point out a few things though; this is written entirely from Jon's point of view and for most of it he is a child, so it is skewed to his own biases and his limited understanding of the world.

Also before anyone complains about Ned's parenting style not being accurate for a medieval Europe-esk setting , I'd like to point out that Ned does seem remarkably progressive in both the show and the books. His children seem to be fine with showing him their displeasure, he encourages Arya's interest in fighing, and Cat has no issue with acting of her own accord. Also the North seems for less formal than the south, and children do stupid things regardless of status, culture or time period.

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'Mother! Arya is chewing her food with her mouth open!' Seven year old Sansa scowled at her sister from across the breakfast table. Arya stuck out her tongue in response, half chewed bacon in plain sight. Seated to the right of Lord Stark the lady of the house sighed and in a long suffering tone reprimanded Arya once again for her lack of manners. Jon used the bread he was eating to hide a smirk at his sister's antics. Robb and Theon were not as subtle and Lady Stark had to reprimand them as well for encouraging Arya's less than ladylike behavior. Sansa gave her sister a self satisfied smile and Arya glared at her, Jon could tell she was already plotting her revenge.

At the head of the table Lord Stark cleared his throat and the clatter of forks and knives ceased as the children looked up from their meals. 'I've an announcement to make, I have business to attend to in White Harbour and will be leaving within a fortnight, I except to be gone for about 2 moons.' Jon schooled his face to calmness, as Robb's tenth Nameday had just passed Jon's was a little over a moon away, He reasoned with himself that Nameday's really don't matter especially for a bastard, still Nameday's were far more pleasant if his father was around, he could still clearly recall the last one his father had missed. 'Robb, you will accompany me.' His father continued. Wonderful, Jon thought bitterly, not only was his father not going to be here but Robb would be gone as well, if he had to spend his Nameday with Theon he might just throw himself from the ramparts and be done with it. 'Jon, you'll come as well.' Jon stared at him for a moment before he remembered to show some form of acknowledgement and mumbled something along the lines of "yes father" while Robb grinned wildly. Jon couldn't help but feel slightly confused, he rarely ever got to go anywhere, He'd accompanied his father to DeepWood Mott once shortly after Bran had been born but that was mostly because Lady Catelyn had been struggling with the new babe and she had raised hells about having to look after him too with Ned gone, as if she had anything to do with him whether his father was there or not.

Across from him Arya was scowling again, a look of determination in her dark grey eyes that usually spelled trouble. 'Can I come too Father? Please?'

'Arya - ' Lady Stark began

'Can she?' Sansa interrupted, a hopeful edge to her voice.

Lord Stark, leaned back in his chair and contemplated his youngest daughter, despite his age of one and thirty, grey had begun to creep through his beard, Jon imagined Arya had been the cause of most of it, at five she was already a force of nature, Wolf Blood his father called it, whatever it was Arya had it in spades. 'Do you promise to behave yourself and be on your best behaviour? We will be travelling for over a week and it's no place to go off on your own, you will have to listen to me and the guards and your brothers.'

'I will father, I promise, I'll be good and I'll listen.'

Lord Stark sighed and looked at his wife who shrugged her shoulders in response to his silent question. 'Fine Arya, you may come - '

'Yay!'

' - if you stay out of trouble between now and then, that means not doing whatever it is you were planning to do to your sister for telling on you a few minutes ago.' Ned finished, Arya had the sense to look at least slightly abashed, but she reluctantly agreed. 'Now that that's settled and everyone appears to be done their meals, off you go, lessons and chores are waiting.' There was the usual scuffle of chairs against flagstone as the older children left, the boys off to training in the yard and the girls off to sewing lessons, something Sansa loved and Arya loathed. Jon reached out to mess up Arya's hair just as they went to go their separate ways and she turned to give him a playful grin before slipping out of his reach, Jon smiled back before running off to catch up with Robb who was waiting for him just outside the castle.

You'll get to spend your nameday in White Harbour.' Robb grinned. 'There's lots to see there, you'll love it.' Robb had, of course, been there before with Father, as heir Jon knew his brother had to get to know the North and his future Banner men but being left behind time and time again was difficult, Robb and Jon were so close in age that they had felt more like twins when they were younger but the older they got the more obvious the differences became. Robb was being groomed to lead, he had private lessons with father a few times a week and he was now expected to be present when Father held audience with small folk and vassal lords alike, Jon on the other hand hardly ever saw father outside of family meals and when he came to watch them practice and he was expected to make himself scarce when people came to call. He tried not to let the growing differences sour his relationship with Robb, but sometimes it was hard especially after the incident a few moons back.

'Aye, Im sure I will.' He replied as they came up to Ser Rodrik, who stood outside the armory with a bow in each hand. Theon had already grabbed his and was busy practicing, an arrow proudly protruding from the bullseye on his target. Jon and Robb both groaned as they took the offered weapons and Ser Rodrik smirked, Archery was not a favourite of either boy.

'Come now lads, it does no good to only focus on your strengths, I'll make marksmen of you both yet.' he clapped them on the shoulders as he walked passed and took up position off to the side, Theon's side, Jon noticed, the Ironborn boy having taken the far left target, not that Jon could blame the old Master at Arms, It was a lot safer to stand near Theon while they were shooting, last time one of Robb's arrows had gone wild and hit a rack of lamb curing outside the kitchens. Theon had nearly pissed himself laughing over it.

Robb nocked an arrow, drew back and took aim, it hit the very edge of the target and Robb scowled, kicking his boot into the dirt. Jon followed suit but his went over the target completely and landed by outer wall of the tiltyard. Ser Rodrik shouted out for them to try again and they reluctantly obeyed. By the time the old knight called an end to practice, both Robb and Jon had managed to hit the target a few times though no where near the bullseye, Theon's target was beginning to look like a porcupine and his usual smug smile had even more of a cocky edge then it usually did. There was no doubt that Theon was better with a bow, he was also five and ten, nearly a man grown so it stood to reason that he was better, but Theon never let that fact stop him from gloating when he bested the younger boys.

As they collected their arrows and returned everything to the armory and grabbed their practice swords Jon's mind wondered to his fathers unexpected announcement, it was true as Robb had said, that they should be in White Harbour by his Nameday which meant that he would helpfully get to spend the day with the brother and sister he loved the most, and with father, without those in Winterfell who deliberately made things difficult for him. That in and of itself was a more perfect present than any Jon had ever received.

Two days later Lord Stark called for Jon to meet him in the stables, it was an unusual summons as Jon rarely spent time with his father alone. When he arrived his father was grooming a coal black palfrey with a white diamond marking above its eyes, the horse appeared to be new to the stables as Jon was unfamiliar with it, and he spent enough time in the stables to know all the horses.

'Ah, there you are.' his father greeted. 'Hodor, please get the new tack I had made.' Jon turned slightly, he hadn't noticed the giant man who tended the horses but he was there at the end of the stalls.

'Hello Hodor.'

Hodor grinned 'Hodor' He replied by way of greeting and then he turned to Lord Stark 'Hodor' he acknowledged and went off in search of the tack.

'what do you think of him?' Father asked, gesturing to the stallion.

'He's beautiful.' Jon replied, it was true, the horse had obviously been well bred.

Lord Stark nodded in agreement 'He was supposed to be for your Nameday but since we are to be gone by then, it seemed only right to give him to you now.'

Jon wasn't entirely sure he'd heard right at first, it was true, he'd been riding horses instead of ponies for a while now but he had not been expecting his own, Robb had been gifted with one from his grandfather the year before but Jon had always rode one of the horses that belonged to the castle in general. 'Th- thank you Father, I – he's wonderful.' Jon stammered, He tentatively reached out to rub the horses snout, he wondered what the appropriate response to a gift like this was, should be hug his father? He wasn't good at showing emotions and he had rarely been presented with anything like this, he didn't want his father to think him ungrateful, it had also been a long time he realized, since he and his father had hugged, The Lord had always been more reserved with him than with his trueborn children and over the last few years a sort of respectful distance had developed between them.

'Jon' Jon startled slightly as Lord Stark laid a hand on his shoulder and had bent down slightly to be at eye level with him, Jon had been staring at the horse without really seeing anything and he hadn't noticed his father move. 'I understand that you certainly weren't expecting something like this. It's alright, I'm sure you will take good care of him.'

'I will Father! I promise.'

'Good' Ned smiled. He stood back up and turned just as Hodor reappeared with the tack, Jon stood back as Hodor and his father readied the horse, he had the strangest feeling then, that he had missed an opportunity, if he had reached out and hugged his father maybe... he wasn't sure what, really, but the moment had passed and that distance was back again.

Jon spent the week before they left riding Onyx, as he had called the horse, as much as he could, he wanted to be well acquainted with him before he had to ride him down the kingsroad. The coal black mount proved well trained however and easy to control and when the day came to finally set out to White Harbour Jon had to admit that he was as excited as Robb, maybe not quite as excited as Arya but it was hard to meet the enthusiasm of a five year old, She was bouncing around in her saddle in a way that both boys considered to be far too undignified for the mature age of ten (or nearly ten in Jon's case), They were to make the short trip from Winterfell to Castle Cerwyn and send two days there while Father conferred with Lord Medger about taxes, and grain supplies, then they were follow the White Knife to White Harbour where they would stay at New Castle with the Manderly's.

They set out mid morning with a half dozen household guards and a cart of supplies, Jon and Robb amused themselves by racing each other from one landmark to the next, never too far from the others but enough that they imagined they were on their own in the wilderness. Arya had grown cross with them by the time Lord Stark called everyone to stop for a small break about half way to Castle Cerwyn. Father had forbidden her to race with the boys and her pony would have been useless anyway, she thought it highly unfair that she had been left with father and the guards while they had fun and she threatened to put a worn in Robb's waterskin if they didn't include her.

'How come I get threatened with a worm but Jon doesn't?' Robb asked her as they sat in the grass, in a clearing just off the road, eating hard cheese and bread.

'Because he's my favourite brother.' Arya replied with her usual unashamed bluntness.

Robb feigned being hurt and Arya stuck out her tongue at him, inwardly Jon warmed at the words, he loved all his siblings dearly, even Sansa, who had decided as soon as she realized what Bastard meant to keep Jon at arms length, but his bond with Arya was different than it was even with Robb. Robb was his best friend, but Arya understood, even at five what it was like not to fit in, she was already chaffing against the role she had to play as a girl while Jon likewise struggled against his role as a bastard. As he watched her make faces at Robb he got the impression that she would be more successful in her battle than he would be in his.

'You can ride with me.' Jon offered when Arya turned her attention back to her food. 'I doubt your weight will make any difference.'

Arya grinned at Robb 'Favourite brother.' She said again, pointing at Jon. Robb just rolled his eyes.

When they set out again father lifted Arya up to sit with Jon while one of the guards took the reins of her pony to be led along, Jon was right and Arya's little weight had made no difference to Onyx, and the two won the first race against Robb, Arya's laughter ringing clear across the meadow as they waited by the boulder they'd choosen as the finish line, for their brother to join them. It wasn't until Jon had lost two in a row that Arya decided to switch teams, dangerously scrambling to climb from one horse to the other, as Robb smirked and Jon muttered Traitor to her. She came back to Jon when Robb's fortunes changed. Both boys were more than a little relieved when Ned called an end to their game for fear of tiring out the horses and took Arya on his own mount for the last leg of the journey.

Castle Cerwyn came into view just as the sun was starting to wane. 'Thank the gods.' Robb muttered 'I think my arse must be blood red.'

'And how do you think you're going to feel when we get to White Harbour, Hum?' Father asked, Robb blushed, he obviously hadn't meant to be overheard. Both boys had been riding since they were old enough to sit astride a saddle on a pony, but they had rarely ridden for longer than an hour or two at a time, Jon couldn't say that he felt any better than Robb did but he wasn't going to admit that now.

Lord Cerwyn held a small feast that evening in honour of Lord Stark's visit, both Jon and Robb found themselves sitting with Medgar's son Cley, while Arya sat with their father, it was unconventional, generally Arya would have been sitting with other young ladies, but Father seemed to think it wise to keep her within arms reach.

Being only half a days ride from Winterfell the Cerwyn's were often guests of the Starks and so the boys knew Cley well enough, he had always been friendly with Jon despite the differences in status and had confessed the last time he had visited Winterfell that he was terribly jealous of Robb for having a built in playmate his own age. Lord Cerwyn and his wife had only managed to produce two children in the 30 years of their marriage, the eldest, Jonelle was already five and twenty, and thus more like an aunt than a sister. Cley had the children of stewards and other important household staff to play with but according to him it wasn't the same.

They spent their meal talking about hunting and horses and the ride up that day, and complaining about lessons about sums and history, Cley couldn't wait for the following afternoon, he wanted to show Robb and Jon all his favourite places.

'The morning of course we'll have to sit in with our fathers as they go over taxes.' Cley crumpled up his nose in disgust. 'You're lucky you don't have to go Jon, I hate learning about being a Lord, last harvest I sent four whole days learning all about inventors and how much grain the average person eats. Father says because he had me so late he has to make me learn earlier just in case.'

'I wonder how much extra grain Lord Manderly eats.' Robb pondered and Cley snickered, Lord Manderly was well known for his size and he seemed to get bigger every time he made the journey to Winterfell, it was said he could barely sit a horse these days. Jon gave Robb a reassuring smile when he looked his way, the comment about Jon not going to the meeting tomorrow had obviously not slipped passed his brother but Jon was trying to be alright with it. He had known that his father would have to meet with Lord Cerwyn but he had hoped Robb wouldn't have to join, still he was in a different place and he was going to make the most of it.

The next day dawned bright and cool, when they broke their fast Robb tried in vain to worm his way out of accompanying his father but Lord Stark was having none of it. Arya was sent off with some of the castle's young girls for the morning, something she seemed as thrilled about as Robb was, and so after assuring his father that he wouldn't get into any trouble Jon was left on his own. It turned out there wasn't much to do at Castle Cerwyn, not compared to Winterfell anyway, Jon wandered through the courtyards and the tiltyards, he visited the stables to check on Onyx and even explored the library and roamed the godswood. By mid morning he was thoroughly and completely bored. As he found his way back to the main courtyard he discovered that the castle gates were open and a sort of market had been set up by the walls outside, there were several small settlements and farms nearby and Jon assumed they must come here to sell their goods, if anything it gave him something to do. He wandered through the stalls of produce, furs and metalworks, many of the sellers had children with them, most likely teaching them the skills they'd need to carry on family trades. It made Jon think about Robb and Cley, they were being trained as well, everyones path seemed as though it had been laid out for them, the farmers would pass the land down to their children, teaching them to till it and harvest its yield, blacksmiths and hunters, fisherman, lords, they all passed their positions and skills down to sons who would one day take their places, Jon had no place to take. It was a thought that occurred to him more and more often as he grew. His father insisted that he learn all he things generally reserved for lords: numbers, letters, history, governance, strategy but Jon failed to understand what good any of it was going to do him, at most he would end up a soldier, not a commander for whom an understanding of military strategy may be the difference between victory and defeat but a relatively low ranking foot soldier in an army of thousands, assuming he saw war in his life time. If the peace continued then even his skill with a sword wasn't going to amount to much.

Sometimes Robb talked about the future, in those pictures he painted as they lay awake at night, Jon was always by his side, the master at arms, Robb's sworn sword, the captain of the guard or such but the vision always made Jon feel uncomfortable. It wasn't just the idea of playing second fiddle to his brother, no he was used to that, it was the idea that everything he may one day achieve would only be so because his brother gave it to him, like a pet Robb plied with food to keep it around.

It was a dark and depressing thought, and he was so wrapped up in his own musings that he failed to notice the group of boys until he had passed them and they had called out to him several times. When it finally filtered through he turned back to look at them, they were roughly his age, small folk by the look of their clothes, there were six of them and the one in front who Jon assumed was the groups leader had a mean weaselly look to him.

'We was talking to you.' He said. 'We asked where you was headed to.'

Jon looked around him, like he expected there to be someone else behind him that they were talking to, why did they care what he was doing? 'Sorry, I was thinking, I didn't hear you. I'm not going anywhere in particular, just wandering.'

'I ain't never seen you round here before.' One of the other boys spoke up, Jon still couldn't understand why any of it mattered, but he got the feeling the weaselly boy wasn't looking to make friends, he was eyeing Jon like he might make some fine entertainment and Jon certainly wasn't in the mood to entertain, he also had no desire to explain who he was, saying he was Lord Stark's son, even his bastard son would certainly get them to go away but just now the idea didn't sit well with him.

'I'm not from here, we're just passing through.'

'Passing through from where? This here spot is mine.' The ring leader told him. Jon stared at him for a moment before he looked around again, he had wandered a bit from the little market and was on a trail near the woods that ringed Castle Cerwyn, what was the boy talking about? The woods? The trail? The giant boulder just behind their group?

'Hey Derric.' One of the other boys spoke up, 'I think you should leave him be, I think he's a lord.'

The leader, Derric apparently, gave Jon a once over, apparently Jon came up lacking. 'He ain't no lord, what's a lord be doing out here by 'imself?' He looked at the other boy like he was an idiot. 'if he was a lord he'd have a guard or something. 'ave you ever seen little Cley Cerwyn out 'ere by 'imself?'

'I'm just sayin', look at his boots.' The other boy continued. His boots? What did his boots have to do with anything?

Apparently Jon wasn't the only one who didn't understand because Derric's next comment was: 'Why do I care about 'is boots, Mika?'

Mika rolled his eyes ' My Da's a cobbler in't he? I'm telling you those boots are worth more gold than you've ever seen.'

'So he's got money, don't make him no lord.' He turned to look at Jon, a glint in his eyes. 'So are you a Lord?'

'No.' Jon answered, he was quickly losing his patience with this conversation.

'what are you then?'

Jon faltered, Lord Stark's first rule for his children was not to lie, it was the one thing he demanded of them above all else, but he still didn't want to say he was the bastard son of the Warden of the North, he had a sneaking suspicion Derric wouldn't believe him anyway.

'Well? What are you?' That glint in Derric's eyes was getting brighter it seemed, Derric had found his entertainment and the other boys were watching with expressions that ranged from worried to excited. 'He don't even know what he is! A rich halfwit! That's what he is!' Some of the boys snickered.

'I'm Lord Stark's son.' He snapped back, he regretted it the minute it left his mouth. Derric tilted his head to the side as he studied him. 'We're visiting from Winterfell.' He added lamely.

'And my granny is an Other.' Derric mocked.

The boy who had spoken earlier, the cobbler's son Mika seemed more thoughtful about the matter. 'Lord Stark has a Bastard, they say he treats him just like his other children.'

'Nah, he ain't no Lord's son, he's just a halfwit with some gold, you got any gold on you halfwit? I'd like some gold.'

'Derric!' Mika hissed, he seemed to have more sense than the rest of them, and he didn't seem to like where this was going, Derric had started walking closer to Jon as he spoke, some of the others advanced too. Jon could run, it wasn't all that far back to the stalls and the grown-ups but that would make him a coward, Bastard he may be but he was no coward, besides he knew how to fight.

'Well?' Derric prompted again, he was now close enough to Jon that he could have reached out and touched him. Up close Jon could see an X shaped scar under his right eye, probably from a fight, his hair was unevenly cut and his clothes were shabby, the cuffs frayed and patched. The boy Mika was right, Jon's boots were probably worth more than this boy had ever seen or would ever see. He had the grace to feel at least a little bad about all the time he'd spent this morning dwelling on his own problems, he knew he had it better than most, he also knew if he didn't do something he was likely going to have to explain to his father how he lost his boots.

Out of the corner of his eyes he could see some of the other boys starting to circle around him, closing him in in case he did decide to run for it. But he kept his eyes on Derric, he doubted the boy was the type to let anyone else do his fighting for him, if a punch was going to come, it would come from him. 'I asked you a question. You got any gold on you halfwit?' he tilted his head again, studying him. 'Or is it Bastard?'

Lord Stark's face looked pinched, like he'd sucked on one of the lemons Sansa loved so much. Jon wished he'd stop looking at him all together. He was sitting in the musty room that belonged to the Cerwyn's Maester, a porky man, at least twenty years Luwin's junior. He had one hand soaking in some sort of cold thick liquid, whatever it was it did take the sting out of his knuckles, the Maester was currently dabbing at the cut that split Jon's lip and debating whether or not he needed stitches.

'You did promise me this morning that you were not going to get into any trouble.' To say his father had not been pleased when Jon showed up with a black eye, a split lip and a hand full of busted knuckles was an understatement, Jon hadn't seen him so tense since the time Theon had stolen a flagon of wine and proceeded to get piss loaded drunk and then vomited all over the floor during the evening meal. At the time Robb and Jon had thought the entire incident had been spectacular, including the yelling Lord Stark had done after the fact. He'd much rather Theon be on the receiving end of Father's current expression.

'I didn't go looking for trouble.' Jon snapped back, he realized again, as soon has the words left his mouth that he'd said the wrong thing, or at least used the wrong tone. Lord Stark's expression became even more agitated.

I- I'm sorry father, I didn't mean to snap, I just di-didn't think. I didn't mean for this to happen, there were a group of them and I couldn't get away.'

Ned sighed, some of the tension seeming to leave his face. 'Jon - ' He began, He placed a hand on Jon's shoulder and leaned down to look at him, he sighed in exasperation 'God's Jon, you're a mess.'

'Crofter's boy.' Medgar Cerwyn said from where he'd appeared in the doorway. 'lives in the nearest hamlet, I can have my men go and collect him.'

Lord Stark continued to examine Jon's face, Jon hadn't seen the damage himself but if his father's expression was any indication it must have been bad. Finally he sighed again and stood up, he turned half way to look at Lord Cerwyn. 'That won't be necessary Medgar, children get into fights from time to time.'

'Still, he hit the son of the warden of the North.' Lord Cerwyn pointed out.

_Bastard son_, Jon thought, if anyone had dared punch Robb it would be an entirely different conversation.

'And from the condition of my son's hand, I'd say he did his fair share of hitting too. No, let the boys father deal with him, as I will deal with mine.' Lord Stark's tone left little room for argument and the older Lord nodded and disappeared from the doorway.

Jon winced as his father turned back to him. The Maester declared that Jon's lip would heal fine on it's own and headed off to the back of the room to prepare a salve for Jon's eye. Jon really wished the Maester had stayed closer, usually he would have jumped at the opportunity to be alone with his father, but right now he felt more fear than he had when he faced those six boys.

'Who threw the first punch?'

Jon took a deep breath and looked down at the floor. Ned sighed again, his boots disappeared from Jon's line of sight for a moment, then he returned with a chair, he sat down, close enough that his knees nearly touched Jon's and braced his forearms on his legs so he was face to face with him.

'I suppose I don't need to ask what was said that made you react like that.' Ned's tone was gentle, understanding even. 'There were six of them and one of you, you're children yes, but they still could have killed you.'

'I didn't - '

'No, I know you didn't think. That's how most fights start, but Jon, if you're going to start a fight every time someone calls you a bastard you will spent your entire life fighting.'

Jon turned his face away, he shut his eyes tight against the tears that threatened to fall, the pain that radiated from the bruise only made it harder to control but he hadn't cried in front of anyone in years, and he wasn't going to start now. 'Are you going to send me back to Winterfell?' He asked. He probably deserved it, though the thought upset him greatly.

'I did consider it but no, you'll continue with us to White Harbour.'

Jon felt some of the tension leave his shoulders, he hadn't realize how tense he had become. The thought of going back to Winterfell while Arya and Robb went on without him was mortifying, the fact that Lady Stark would be made aware of why he was sent back was even worse.

'Thank you Father.'

'Don't thank me yet, you will tend to all of the horses when we stop in the evenings both to White Harbour and on the way back. I will allow you a reprieve while we are in White Harbour as long as you avoid any more trouble between here and there.' Jon nodded in agreement. Anything was better than getting sent home.

'And you will apologize to the crofter's boy, Derron was it?'

Jon's head whipped up at that, Apologize? He had to apologize to that boy? It wasn't as though Jon had started the fight, he hadn't been looking for trouble. 'Derric, and do I have to?'

Lord Stark's expression said it all.

And so that afternoon, while Robb and Arya explored Castle Cerwyn with Cley, Jon, Lord Stark and one of Lord Cerwyn's men rode through the little Hamlet just south of the keep until they came to a small farm on it's outskirts. The house on the land was a small stone structure with a thatched roof, there was a pen nearby where a few hens pecked the ground and a well in need of some repair. Jon and the men got down from their horses as a man who looked slightly older then Lord Stark appeared from a field of wheat with a trowel in one hand, Jon could tell this was Derric's father, though he didn't look quite as mean as his son he did share the same resemblance to a weasel.

'Can I help you Milord?' He asked as soon as he was close enough to be heard.

Lord Stark came closer to Jon and laid a hand on his shoulder, a protective gesture, one of ownership that Jon would have found truly touching under different circumstances. 'It seems my son had an altercation with your boy this morning.'

'If you mean they beat the shit out of each other, Aye they did.' The man replied. 'Had I known it was a Lord he hit I'd have whipped him good first thing.' Jon looked up at his father, a muscle twitched in his jaw. Jon knew whippings were common enough punishment for many things, including disciplining children, but Lord Stark had never subscribed to it, in fact none of the Stark children, Jon included had ever been hit or lashed in anyway (save the training yard but that didn't count), perhaps if his father had considered this he wouldn't have made Jon come down here.

'That won't be necessary on my account. And my son is not a Lord. However as part of his punishment he is here to apologize for his actions.' His father clarified. Jon could see that the man was caught completely off guard but he caught himself and walked to the house, stuck his head in the door and called out to his son.

'For what it's worth it's hardly the first time Derric's been in a fight, he makes a habit o' crossin' people.' The boy's father explained. He stood there almost nervously as he waited for his son. Jon knew that this must seem completely strange to the man, who may never had an occasion to speak with a lord before today, who may have even avoided such a thing. Doubtless the man hadn't realized he was talking to the Warden of the North, he's father was wearing no sigil today, if he had he would have been even more flustered.

Jon took a moment to take in their surroundings, it was a tiny house, on a small lot of land, from Jon's studies he understood that the man and his family all probably worked this land, harvesting enough to feed themselves and selling or bartering anything they were lucky enough to have left over. It was a world apart from the life Jon was used to, and yet in someways he had more in common with these people then he did with his family, not that Derric or his friends would ever believe that, they only saw a rich Lord.

It felt like a mercy when Derric finally appeared, Jon really just wanted to get this over with. It was clear as he came up to stand by his father that Jon had broken his nose, it was also clear that Derric wasn't dense enough to overlook Lord Stark for what he was. Colour drained from his face and he quickly looked down at the ground.

Jon bit at the scab on his lip and was rewarded with the metallic tang of blood. He could feel Lord Stark watching him. Jon cleared his throat. 'I've come to apologize for my behaviour this morning. It was wrong of me to attack you.' There, done. Could they leave now?

Derric raised his head and looked at him as though he'd grown a set of antlers. 'It w-was my fault, milord, I was lookin' for a bit of fun. I never would have started up had I known you was telling the truth.'

'Perhaps it would be best if you refrained from starting fights at all?' Lord Stark suggested calmly beside Jon.

Derric's head whipped toward Ned, if Jon had thought he looked scared before now he look downright petrified, it would have been funny if Jon didn't feel so lousy about the whole thing. 'Yes, milord Stark, I-I won't ever, I mean I'll be good, I mean I'm sorry I caused trouble. I - ' The words tumbled over themselves in a rush until Lord Stark rose a hand to still the boy. Beside him his father had turned white as the summer snows.

'That's quite enough, now I think you've both learned your lessons. I thank you Sir for allowing us to speak with your son.'

'I – Milord Stark, I don't know what to say, I am sorry for the trouble the boy caused, I hope that all is forgiven.'

'It is, Children fight, the gods know, it seems in our nature, but hopefully they can learn to make amends when it is needed.'

The man only nodded, too dumbfounded to speak. Ned made his way back to his horse and Jon followed with relief, he felt miserable, embarrassing didn't quite begin to cover this day and his head throbbed, he hoped he could rest for awhile when he got back to Castle Cerwyn.

He took one last look at the little cottage as they turned their horses away, he wondered briefly if this is what his future looked like, would he end up tilling the land hoping for enough to feed his family? Would he ever even have a family? Sometimes when Uncle Benjen came down from the wall, he and Lord Stark would lock themselves in father's solar and talk about their plans to repopulate the Gift, the land the Starks had given to the Night's Watch generations ago. Father wanted to raise up new lords to hold land there, command soldiers to protect the North from the Wildlings that found their way south in ever increasing numbers. Jon held a secret hope that he would be allowed to hold land in his fathers name, perhaps then he would be able to find a wife, maybe from one of the lesser noble houses or from a house with enough children that they couldn't be particular about illegitimacy, then mayhaps he could have a real family, something of his own. But it was just wishful thinking. Father said it wouldn't do to attempt it yet, they had to wait until the next winter was over and summer didn't seem like it was interested in ending anytime soon. Jon would be a man long grown before that day came and he knew with certainty that his days in Winterfell were numbered.


End file.
